One Night in December
by xXPageturnerXx
Summary: Francis is trying to work when a certain Englishman drops by...hours before the end of the world! Some mild Language, and human names used. Not sure if it needs a "T" rating, but I like it here ;) Thanks for reading!


**Hey guys! Pagetuner here, right before the apocalypse and Christmas! I felt that this was a cute addition to the collection of FrUK stories that are out there already. Hopefully you guys enjoy it ;) I hope my drawing descriptions and French are good enough for you guys :D**

* * *

Francis looked out the window in his room. The Arc de Triomphe was lit up with gold lights and snow softly fell from a black sky. There was a cold breeze that forced those walking home to huddle closer to their scarves and loved ones, their hands full of last-minute gifts for "Noël". Of course, he had other things on his mind. In fact, he was sure all the nations were worried about this.

Today was December 20…2012.

Francis shivered as he pulled the dark red curtains closed, thankful that he wasn't out in the cold, and moved smoothly across the wooden floor to his office. He had too many letters to write and not nearly enough time, no time at all to be day dreaming…

_It was a beautiful, green grass, blue sky, day. Francis was wearing the latest fashion, the sun bouncing off his glossy hair that was dancing in the wind, and was on his way to pester some of his neighbours when he'd over heard some passersby talking about something…_

Francis shook the memory from his mind and flopped down into his office chair. He opened his laptop and brought up the internet browser to check his email for more threatening letters from his boss. The economy wasn't doing so well this year either.

He sighed and pulled out a yellow folder of half written letters when one slipped out, the only thing written on this one was a name.

Arthur.

_He rushed over to Angleterre's home and burst through the door, not bothering to knock._

_"Angleterre?!" He shouted into the seemingly empty house._

_Footsteps echoed from below the floor and then a loud bang shook the house, "What the bloody hell are you doing here? Don't you know what's going to happen?!"_

_Francis smirked at England's ruffled hair and the blanket that was covering his shoulders as he rounded around a corner and into view, "Do you really zink zat zat old blanket will protect ton petit vie, mon cher?"_

_Francis relished in the soft blush that dusted Arthur's face, he'd finally learned what that nickname meant, "Don't call me such absurdities, frog, and shut that door!"_

Francis let his head fall into his hands and began massaging his temples, feeling a headache blooming behind his eyes, "Sacre bleu. I won't get anyzing done at zis rate…"

He pushed back his chair and stood, ready to call it a night, when he heard a soft knocking at the door.

He glanced at the clock and drew his eyebrows together in confusion at the late hour. The knocking came again a bit louder.

Francis walked out of his office and shouted, "Oui, Je suis tu entendre! Un seconde, s'il vous plais."

He was jogging down the main steps in his home when Francis heard the knocking again, this time they were louder and shook the door.

When Francis reached the door, he clutched the cold, brass knob and twisted it to open the door. He was about to ask what this visitor wanted at this hour, but he stopped halfway through asking, leaving his mouth attractively open…kind of like a fish.

The blistering December wind seemed to push the Englishman in through the doorway. Francis was still gaping as Arthur shivered in his coat, looked around the room, and then stared at Francis, "What the bloody hell were you doing that took ten minutes for you to open the bloody door?! I'm nearly frozen to death!"

Francis blinked and tried to respond, "Wha-"

"On second thought," Arthur said flinching, "don't answer that, I don't want to know."

Francis shut the door quickly, his fingers already turning red on the door handle from the cold, and smiled warmly, "What are you doing here Angleterre? I didn't zink you were ze boo-"

"Shut up, frog! I'm not here for that!" Arthur snapped as he took his coat off and threw it over the back of a chair, conveniently turning his back.

Francis smirked, not believing him for a second, "Are you sur-"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"Zen why are you here, mon cher?"

Arthur glared at him, but ignored the pet name, "I'm here for business. You know that the economy is rather, well…anyway, and the rumours going around about tomorrow-"

Francis interrupted him, "Tomorrow? You mean ze 21st?"

Arthur looked at him for a moment before nodding and crossing his arms, "I…it's almost a tradition now and I wouldn't want to back out of it now. We've done this for every apocalypse so far and-"

"What's the real reason?" Francis asked, feeling a pang in his chest as Arthur's cheeks flushed, "Come on, mon cher. I know when you are lying."

Arthur sighed and sunk into the chair he slung his coat over, "My family is gathering for Christmas this weekend and I came here to wait out the storm."

Francis laughed, "Your family isn't zat-"

"They are so!" Arthur interrupted, "So? Can I hide here for a few days?"

Francis smiled at him, knowing he wouldn't last that long, "Oui, of course mon cher."

* * *

Francis had finally found the movie Arthur had 'politely requested', with rather colourful language, and returned to the living room to find him asleep on one side of the couch, under an old blanket.

Francis hesitated in the doorway, trying to decide whether to wake him up or not. His family was pretty bad, and he was probably tried from stress…maybe he could just watch for a bit…

Francis set the DVD on the coffee table and left the living room, heading up to his room for his sketch book. His drawings weren't as good as Feli's, but they were decent.

Francis laughed softly, "_Better than Ludwig's, anyway."_

When he returned to the living room, Arthur was still in the same place on the couch. His left arm was bent at the elbow and slung over the back of the couch. His blonde head was lolled to one side on a throw cushion with his bangs barely covering his eyebrows. One knee, pressed against the back cushions, was bent up under the blanket that covered him from the shoulders down, and his right hand lay softly against his stomach.

The streetlight from the window behind him cast shadows over his body and face, defining his cheek bones and jaw.

Francis lowered himself to the floor and crossed his legs, pressing the book onto his lap. He studied Arthur for a few more seconds, letting his eyes skim over the different shadows and textures, and letting them linger on places they shouldn't.

Then he set to work. Letting his favourite pencil run across the page and fill it with the image in front of him.

* * *

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he'd had to stop looking up because the light was changing slightly and messing up the shadows.

His pencil was working on Arthur's right hand when he felt a warm breath at his shoulder. Francis straightened up and jumped and the green eyes staring wide at him.

"I didn't know you could draw."

"Oui, I can…"

Arthur scooted back a bit and sat down on the floor, "Why were you drawing me?"

Francis looked down at his page. The sketch was only half done, but he'd gotten a general outline of Arthur's shape on the couch, "I…you were asleep when I brought ze movie down and it…ze lighting was perfect for it."

"Oh," Arthur said quietly, as he blushed a bit, "Sorry I moved then."

Francis shook his head and was about to say something when Arthur continued, "Can I see it?"

Francis looked down at the book before handing it over for his judgement.

Arthur's eyes danced over the page, his fingers tracing the edge of the paper nervously. Then he flipped it.

"No. Don't-"

"Who's this?"

Arthur had flipped to older drawings. He tilted the book down so Francis could see the page, but kept it out of arms reach.

Francis sighed, "It is a very old…ami, of mine."

"I don't see him around anywhere…?"

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose, "Zat's because he is not around anymore…"

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it is not your fault, mon cher, but please sto-"

"And who's this?" Arthur asked when he flipped a page before Francis could stop him.

Francis flinched before he could hide it, "Zat…"

Her brown hair was cut short. Her eyes, a beautiful colour of blue that was hidden behind the black charcoal on the page, were filled with the smile playing at her lips. She was sitting on the steps of a small church, looking right out of the paper, right at Francis, into his soul.

"Zat…was Jeanne."

Francis reached into the space between him and Arthur and lifted the book out of his hands, "Oh, wow. She's…"

"Très belle, oui…I know," Frances whispered as he traced his finger lightly around her face, careful not to smudge the image.

Arthur hesitated, but slowly slid over to sit beside Francis, "What do the other pictures look like?"

Francis ignored him and kept staring at the picture.

Arthur lifted his hand and gently pressed it to his shoulder, "Francis? Can I see the others as well?"

Francis blinked, seeming to have snapped out of it, "What? Why?"

Arthur leaned back a bit and crossed his arms, "We only have about an hour left before we all die in the apocalypse and I'd like to see more of your drawings. What? Do you have a problem with that, frog?!"

Francis smiled at his defensive act, "Non, mon cher. Come on, I'll get the other books."

Arthur stood but looked confused as he followed France upstairs, "What's wrong with the drawings in that book?"

Francis was glad his back was turned as a blush heated his cheeks, "Because this one is for…mon amant."

He knew Arthur was confused, but he wouldn't tell him about it. Not now that he was in the book too.

* * *

**Well? How was this one? I seem to have taken to one-shots. They're so much easier to write! Ha :D**

**Please leave a comment, I love hearing from my readers. Thanks for reading, and good luck with your writing.**

**Merry Christmas, or if you don't celebrate it, then Happy Holidays guys! ;)**


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